


The Chance to Be Good

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Family Feels, M/M, More Joy Day Fest, Returning Home, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: When John goes home to see his terminally ill father, Rodney tags along and finds himself in the middle of dysfunctional Sheppard family feels.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 23
Kudos: 148





	The Chance to Be Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidgiepdx (squidgie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/gifts), [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> sga_saturday: father
> 
> In celebration of More Joy Day, for my friends squidgiepdx and popkin16!

_You need to come home. Your father is dying._

Rodney found John on the pier, staring out at the setting suns with an unopened bottle of whisky beside him. Whoever had been on the other end of that Gate call hadn’t delivered good news.

Option A, it was the SGC and they wanted to pull John out of Atlantis. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried that before, for various reasons. Each time some four-star asshole thought he know what was best, Rodney was more than happy to set them straight. Atlantis was John’s home.

Option B, it was a family thing. In which case, Rodney would be no help at all. Like Rodney, John wasn’t close with his family. The only thing he’d revealed about them was that he had a younger brother, married with kids, and a mom.

“You can sit down,” John said without turning around. “I won’t bite.”

“I have an impression of your teeth on my thigh that says otherwise.” Rodney eased himself down next to John and looked over at the bottle. “Eighteen year Glenfiddich. What’s the occasion?”

There was a long pause before John said, “I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid.”

“Interesting non-sequitur. I wanted to be Carl Sagan, but with better hair. I’m aware of the irony.”

John huffed out a laugh and leaned against Rodney’s shoulder. “Turns out your spaceship of the imagination is actually real. And way cooler.”

“Why an astronaut?” Rodney asked. It was important to keep John on track when he was revealing pieces of himself, a rarity even after so many years.

“I guess…because outer space was as far away as I could get from my father.”

Option B then. Rodney wished the whisky was already open, because he wouldn’t have minded a fortifying swig if he had to deal with John’s family issues. That was a minefield no sane person would cross.

“Well, here you are. You made it.”

“Yeah. Here I am.” John reached for the bottle, peeling back the foil and popping the stopper. He took an overly indulgent swallow. “Shit. That’s really good.”

He passed the bottle to Rodney, who took a more delicate sip. John wasn’t wrong. It was smooth and sweet and had a nice slow burn to it.

“Where did you get this?”

“I swiped it from Carson’s secret stash.”

“Bastard’s been holding out on me.” Rodney took another taste and handed the bottle back. “That call you got today. Was it your dad?”

John shook his head and took another big swallow before capping the bottle. “My mom. My old man’s dying and she wants me to come and see him before he goes.”

“Oh.” Rodney tried to think of something comforting to say. He hadn’t grieved for his own parents when they died, because they’d been tremendous assholes, but that didn’t mean John felt the same about his father. “I’ll come with you.”

“Never said I was going.” 

“Well, in case you do, you won’t have to go alone.”

John tipped his head against Rodney’s and reached for his hand. Their fingers slotted together with the ease of familiarity. In front of them the sky was painted vibrant reds and oranges, and the sea looked like it was on fire.

*o*o*o*

John had left out some key information that Rodney didn’t find out until they got to Virginia. Like the fact that his father, Patrick Sheppard, was filthy rich. His house was an actual estate on grounds that included rolling green lawns, elaborate gardens, and pastures full of horses. The man had staff as well: gardeners, a cook, housekeepers, even a butler/valet.

Hard to imagine a suicidal hero who hated to tie his own shoes had grown up a child of privilege.

“He’s been up there a long time,” Rodney said, casting yet another glance at the coffered ceiling above his head.

Patrick was dying at home instead of in a hospital. Rodney hadn’t seen the room, but he imagined a fancy Borgia-esque bed surrounded by medical equipment and a live-in nurse.

“I’m sure he has a lot to say.”

John’s mother, Grace, was sitting opposite Rodney on a plush loveseat, her legs drawn up under her. It was clear to see where John got his dark good looks. From the family photos Rodney had seen, Patrick and John didn’t share a single facial feature in common.

All he knew about Grace was that she was a former drug addict who had walked out on her kids when John was just ten years old.

Rodney snorted. “John doesn’t talk. Especially about his feelings. They’re probably just staring at each other.”

Grace chuckled. “Paddy has a way of pushing people’s buttons. They’ll talk. Or they’ll yell.”

“Or John will pull the plug,” Rodney muttered.

“I suppose that’s always a possibility.” Grace studied him. “Do you always say what’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been told it’s a character flaw.”

“But John doesn’t see it that way.”

“No. He doesn’t.” 

John was incomprehensible to Rodney in a lot of ways. The things other people complained about he seemed to find amusing, even endearing.

Grace said, “He needs someone in his life who’ll be honest with him.”

“He needs someone who won’t leave,” Rodney countered.

John had a lot of loss in his life. Close friends, brothers-in-arms, his mother, his ex-wife…there wasn’t a lot of permanence. Rodney wasn’t great at understanding people, but he knew John wanted to belong somewhere, wanted to be important to someone. Atlantis had given him both those things.

“I stayed as long as I could,” Grace said softly. “Leaving my boys wasn’t easy, but I wasn’t in a position to take care of them. They understand. They’ve forgiven me.”

“Maybe. But I can tell you he’ll never forget.” _Neither will I_ , he wanted to say.

Rodney didn’t presume to know the dynamics of the Sheppard family, or the full extent of the emotional damage Grace and Patrick had inflicted on John. When John was ready, he’d tell Rodney about it. Probably after getting spectacularly drunk, the way he had when he’d finally confessed his feelings for Rodney.

Any further conversation was cut short by John coming down the stairs. He’d worn his dress blues, chest covered in medals and ribbons, and had his hat tucked under his arms. As statements went, it was a pretty unmistakable one.

John’s eyes were red.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to his mother, leaning over the back of the loveseat to kiss her cheek. “You ready, Rodney?”

“Thank you for…” Rodney waved a hand at the tea service and tray of cookies on the coffee table.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. McKay,” Grace said. 

The feeling wasn’t mutual.

*o*o*o*

John had been silent and brooding on the ride back to the hotel – he’d flatly refused the offer to stay at the manor house or with his mother at her place – and Rodney had let him be, even though he desperately wanted to pry. John’s earlier display of emotion had him feeling ill-at-ease, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

They turned in early, and Rodney was wondering if initiating sex would be a good idea or not. Maybe John wasn’t feeling particularly horny after talking with his estranged, mostly-dead father. Or maybe it would be a good distraction. Maybe –

“Nothing had the chance to be good,” John said, breaking the silence. 

The room was dark, save for the glow of an LCD nightlight in the bathroom.

“What do you mean?”

“All my father ever saw when he looked at me was my mother. Her betrayals. Her failings.” John’s voice was thick with emotion. “He never saw _me_.”

John turned his back to Rodney but reached out with his foot to knock against Rodney’s leg. An unspoken request. Rodney spooned up behind John and wrapped an arm around him.

“That’s not your fault.”

“Sure felt like it.” John ran his hand up and down Rodney’s arm. “You know why Nancy and I got divorced?”

“I can think of a few reasons.” Gay being the main one, but also the difficulties of being a military wife. Maybe the Johnny Cash music.

John made a noise that might’ve been a chuckle. “She wanted kids. And I didn’t. I don’t want that kind of power over anyone.”

Rodney hugged John tighter. “We live in an alien city in another galaxy, and we routinely save lives. Maybe even the universe. We’re better than our parents ever were.”

“You’re pretty smart,” John said. 

Rodney was pleased to hear a lightness to his tone that had been missing for the last few days.

“Smartest man in two galaxies,” Rodney replied.

“All galaxies.” John pulled Rodney’s hand up and kissed his palm. “I’m a lucky guy.”

“Yes. You are.”

John laughed, a real one this time, and turned so he could kiss Rodney. “What would I do without you?”

“I’d rather think of things we can do together,” Rodney said as suggestively as possible.

There would undoubtedly be more family feels coming the next day, when Dave arrived on the scene. Rodney was ready to do whatever was required of him, whether it was to verbally castrate John’s brother or make sure John had a blood alcohol level tolerable for continued family reunions.

Tonight, though, there was just the two of them. And Rodney was fully committed to the idea of showing John just how good things could be.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title from the song [Holding Back the Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yG07WSu7Q9w) by Simply Red. When I saw this prompt on sga_saturday, I immediately thought of John and his rocky relationship with his dad. And also a conversation online recently about how John’s mother is almost always written as having passed away prior to the start of canon. This is what my brain churned out in response. ::grins::
> 
> I'm gifting this to Squidgie because he's hoping to get more activity on the sga_saturday comm and I want to help out. And also to Popkin because she's the one who initiated that conversation about John's mysterious mother.


End file.
